The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1189: No Wrinkly Raisins Allowed

Ever seen a scene so stressful that someone would end up stubbing their toes three times in the span of a single minute?

Or perhaps one so horrifying that charging straight to the frontlines to fight corruption suddenly sounded like the more relaxing option?

Well, if others had fortunately been spared such an experience, the same certainly couldn’t be said for one unfortunate master mechanic.

The moment Master Quinn pushed open the waiting lounge, he froze.

Just what on Solaris was he looking at?

It was the same lounge room assigned to the members of the judging panel that they used yesterday.

Same room. Same seats. Same old faces.

Well... almost.

Save for the two people and their lackeys who had absolutely no business being there.

But clearly, whatever had happened while he was away had been serious enough for those intruders to have somehow accomplished the impossible and founded an entirely new religion where the Luxastra twins, of all people, were worshipped as benevolent deities.

Inside the lounge, the elderly master mechanics and even several of their much younger assistants crowded around Lyrian and Cyrion Luxastra. One eagerly refilled their teacups, another laughed just a little too hard at something they’d said, while the rest watched with the kind of eager attention usually reserved for legendary figures.

Those old clacking bones looked so thoroughly bewitched that anyone walking in would’ve thought they’d all been hypnotized with something extremely potent.

"Colton, what in the ever-loving hell are you doing?!" Master Quinn finally blurted out after seeing something so abhorrent he needed to wash his own eyeballs with soap.

He stared in utter disbelief at Master Colton, who was actually standing behind the lounging twins with a large folding fan in hand, diligently fanning them as though they were royalty in their own palace.

To Master Quinn’s absolute astonishment, the normally level-headed mechanic simply looked at him and answered matter-of-factly.

"Making sure they’re comfortable."

A beat passed.

"What else should I be doing?"

Well, for starters, staying as far away from those clearly deranged lunatics as humanly possible!

Completely dumbfounded, Master Quinn immediately reached for the nearest person, intending to drag at least one sane mechanic back to reality.

Instead, he nearly suffered another heart attack.

Because Master Allan, of all people, was standing there with an unusually pleasant smile.

"You mentioned wanting a little introduction?"

Master Quinn’s head snapped around.

Sure enough, the senile old man wasn’t speaking to him at all.

He was looking directly at one smiling Aerun who somehow managed to wear the most harmless expression imaginable.

Only then did the others seem to notice Master Quinn’s arrival despite the fact that he’d been standing there for what felt like an eternity.

Almost every head turned toward him as if bothered by how he had stared at their treasure.

Cyrion Luxastra’s smile widened.

"Oh my," he said warmly. "Master Quinn. How wonderful that you’ve decided to join us. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to meet like this."

He gestured gracefully toward an empty seat.

"Why don’t we take this chance to catch up a little?"

Master Quinn’s brows immediately knitted together.

Without the slightest hesitation, he turned to leave.

Only for someone to suddenly grab his arm.

"!"

He looked down.

Allan, that idiot, was actually holding him back.

Naturally, the sight delighted the twins.

Out of everyone present, this Quinn had always been their primary target. In fact, they’d deliberately employed the most aggressive level of their bloodline ability just to create an opportunity like this.

Finally...

Everything was beginning to fall into place—

But unfortunately for them, they’d made one fatal miscalculation.

Who exactly did they think Master Quinn was?

Certainly not the same old man who constantly complained about his aching back and creaking joints.

No.

He was now the very same master mechanic who’d survived every absurd training exercise their Young Lord had enthusiastically introduced over the course of several months that felt like absolute ages.

The moment danger presented itself, instinct took over.

Master Quinn made a run for it.

Not only that...

He grabbed that blasted Allan around the waist as though the old mechanic weighed absolutely nothing, hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and bolted straight out of the lounge with his unwilling passenger in tow.

"!!!"

__

Meanwhile, as the last ones to leave the dungeon-linked space that morning, one rather unusual little family was holding a very important briefing whose sole purpose was making sure their youngest member stayed obedient once they went outside.

Killian crouched in front of the little Queen Bee and did his best to explain that she should stay with him at all times. If, for some reason, that was impossible, then she was to stay with Jax instead.

Unfortunately, he quickly ran into a problem.

He had absolutely no idea how to refer to either himself or Jax.

So the Chief of Staff spent the next several moments awkwardly pointing back and forth between the two of them while the little bee tilted her head farther and farther to the side, looking increasingly confused.

Jax watched for a moment before finally breaking into a grin.

"I think I’ve got this."

He crouched beside Killian before pointing at the latter.

"Mama."

Then he pointed at himself.

"Papa."

The little Queen Bee’s eyes immediately sparkled.

Her tiny wings buzzed excitedly as though she’d instantly fallen in love with those titles.

Killian, meanwhile, slowly turned toward the redhead.

The Chief of Staff raised a brow.

"I am not mama."

Jax bit his lip somehow expecting that development.

Killian sighed before patiently correcting the shameless tank.

"Dada," he said, pointing at himself. "Short for daddy."

He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at Jax, who was already struggling not to laugh, before deciding not to confuse the little bee any further.

Clearing his throat, Killian moved on.

For the time being, she’d be hiding inside his jacket while they attempted to bring her outside the dungeon space for the very first time.

The prospect was apparently nerve-wracking enough that, had the worker bees not already proven they could safely leave and return, he doubted he would’ve dared risk taking their little Queen out at all.

But beyond his own concerns, there was another matter weighing on his mind.

What would they do with her entire colony?

The moment the workers realized their queen was leaving, they immediately gathered around her, clearly intending to accompany her every step of the way.

Since taking thousands of bees into the examination arena wasn’t exactly an option, Jax unexpectedly stepped in.

"How about only your best guards come with us?"

Killian wondered how absurd that was but much to his surprise, not only did they seem to understand what Jax meant, but they also agreed.

"?!"

Truly a bizarre guy!

Then came the even more surprising part.

Much to Killian’s growing disbelief, the bee whisperer somehow managed to assign every single bee an alias.

He called them over one by one, placing a tiny dot on each before cheerfully addressing them by color and pairing every bee with its own designation.

"Red."

"Orange."

"Yellow."

And so on.

The bees listened with remarkable attention, each one remembering its assigned color as though they’d undergone formal military training.

Once everything had finally been settled, the two men exchanged a glance.

It seemed they were ready.

Or at least as ready as they were ever going to be.

But they had barely started standing when the little Queen Bee suddenly reached out, gently placing one tiny paw on Killian’s arm and the other on Jax’s.

The two immediately stopped.

She waited until both pairs of eyes were on her before pointing toward herself.

Then she looked up at them with such hopeful little eyes that neither man’s heart stood a chance.

The other bees had names now.

She didn’t.

How come?

The accidental parents looked at one another as if they’d committed some grave sin.

For a brief moment, the little Queen Bee’s tiny shoulders drooped, as though she’d already concluded that perhaps she wasn’t going to receive one after all.

Seeing that, the ruffled official immediately leaned down until they were eye level. Receiving a subtle nod from Jax, he gently explained, "Of course we were going to give you one. It just took us a while because everyone wanted to help pick it."

The little bee’s wings immediately perked back up.

Apparently satisfied by that explanation, she waited with unconcealed excitement.

This time the eldest Nox nodded conspiratorially at Jax.

The redhead grinned as though he were about to spring a surprise, and Killian figured that, sure enough, this whole unfair smiling business could be traced back to this rascal and that grin of his.

"What do you think about Isabelle?" he asked warmly. "Or Izzie for short?"

Killian added, "As for your family name... you can choose Nox, Taylor, or even both in whatever order you’d like."

The two fathers waited nervously.

The little bee remained completely still.

For a moment, neither of them knew whether she liked it.

Then, all at once, her face lit up.

She beamed from ear to ear before enthusiastically pointing at herself over and over again.

Jax blinked.

Then realization struck.

"Isabelle," he called.

The little bee pointed at herself even more enthusiastically.

"Izzie."

She buzzed happily and pointed at herself again.

"Isabelle."

"Izzie."

The little bee giggled so hard her tiny wings almost became a blur.

This time, even Killian couldn’t help but smile at the scene.

He found it even cuter when she shyly pointed toward the tiny colored marks on the other bees before asking if she could have one too.

Without a word, the Chief of Staff uncapped a glittery marker he never thought he’d ever use.

And with surprising care for someone whose hands were more accustomed to holding weapons than stationery, he drew a tiny, delicate heart beside one of her little legs.

Just like that...

The young Queen finally had a name and a mark that was hers alone.

Now all she had to do was make sure no wrinkly raisins would be able to rain on her parade.